


Boys, boys, boys

by Missy_dee811



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Background Femslash, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Natasha Romanov, Bisexual Tony Stark, Closeted Character, Gay Steve Rogers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mechanic Tony Stark, Meet-Cute, Minor Sharon Carter/Natasha Romanov, Motorcycles, POV Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 03:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20790251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy_dee811/pseuds/Missy_dee811
Summary: Steve keeps putting off his oil change. Finally deciding to see the mechanic in town.[Written for Lights On Park Ave - Round 1.]





	Boys, boys, boys

**Author's Note:**

> Tony's bike is a 1971 Kawasaki A7 SS 350 Avenger, and served as the inspiration for this.

Steve sat in the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. The check oil light came on almost immediately and he sighed. “Right, I’d forgot.”

He kept telling himself he would make the trip across town. He knew it wouldn’t take long and he knew it would be better to go sooner rather than later, but he kept forgetting. He’d get into his car, after work, and would start to drive. It wouldn’t be until he pulled into the driveway that he’d realize his mistake. By then, he figured, it was too late to drive across town – even if the oil change only took minutes – and would resign himself to going after work the next day.

He’d done that a few times already and knew he was cutting it close. He had waited too long once before and had found himself in search of a new car.

As he listened to the sportscasters discuss last night’s game, he decided he would go tonight.

He turned the corner and saw the body shop down the road. At first glance, it looked deserted. There were a few cars parked outside, but no foot traffic. From the distance, he could see that one was a sedan, not much different than his own, and the other two were both SUVs. As he approached, he noted there was also a pick-up truck parked off to the side.

As he pulled into the driveway, he caught sight of a motorcycle on the other side of the street, gleaming in the late afternoon light. It was a gorgeous bike and in very good condition. Steve suspected it was the mechanic’s since it was parked right by the office. 

Steve had wanted to buy himself a bike but couldn’t justify the purchase, having so little use for a vehicle he couldn’t use in his day-to-day, and unable afford the upkeep on more than one vehicle on his salary.

Steve pulled into the driveway, parked, and stepped out. The air was still warm. It had been a pleasant day and the evening was shaping up to be more of the same.

He started to approach the vintage car hoisted by the car lift. As he neared, he heard a familiar guitar riff coming from a radio propped on the workbench in the back. For a moment, Steve thought it might be best to come back on a different day. The man was busy. He didn’t want to impose. As if sensing his thoughts, the man slid out from under the car.

Steve eyes roved across his body. He was sweaty and covered in a combination of grime and…soot? He wasn’t sure. And yet, he couldn’t look away. He had tousled waves and cerulean eyes.

“Bring her over,” he said. “This can’t wait, but you’re a paying customer. At least, I hope,” he said.

Steve smiled. The man reminded Steve of a good old fashioned on the rocks, with just enough zest to liven it.

It was an acquired taste and not something he could drink most nights, but the nights he wanted one, it was a godsend. The single ice cube would melt slowly, as he nursed his drink. The whiskey, though smooth, would burn. Sam, the local bartender, always teased him. According to him, very few people ordered it. Let alone as their go-to drink. It was much too strong.

“What do most people get then?” He asked, one night, quite curious.

Most people who frequented asked for beer on tape or wine. Few ordered cocktails. Steve wasn’t a beer drinker and wine did little for him. He preferred gin and whiskey. Only Sharon could talk him into a shot or two of tequila. More than that would be too much.

“Something with vodka in it,” said Sam, as he dried the glasses and put them away. Steve thought fondly of Natasha and her insistence on vodka and nothing else.

“I know what works for me,” she said, as she threw back the last of her screwdriver. It was her turn to play anyway.

Natasha and Sharon were a couple he had befriended over a game of pool. They were smart and funny, and Steve needed friends. Sam had vouched for them, saying they came often, usually to play. The bar had a few pool tables and some board games. Natasha was a great chess player and she and Steve would play while Sharon made small talk with the other patrons, or sat at the bar and chatted with Sam.

“Is she bothered by us playing?” Steve had asked.

“Oh no. She’s not bothered. She just doesn’t feel the need to hang around if we’re engrossed. She’ll be back with drink or two, and to see who wins.” (Natasha won. She often did.)

Steve had thought they were going to proposition him. Biting the bullet, he said, “I’m flattered. I am. But I’m… I’m not interested.”

Both women shared a look. They were a little incredulous. He couldn’t blame them. He knew what kind of picture he painted. He knew how he looked, and he knew men that looked like him who wouldn’t turn down the offer. He wouldn’t begrudge them. They were beautiful and it would be a fun night, for sure, but he was only interested in men.

At that, Natasha smiled. “Well, I hope you find that lucky guy, Steve.”

Steve nodded. He did too.

They kept playing. Before leaving, Sharon spun around and scribbled something on a napkin. Moments later, she pressed it into Steve’s hands.

“Might be easier if people think we propositioned you,” she said.

“But you did,” said Steve.

“And you said no, but they don’t know that,” she said.

Sharon kissed him on the cheek and added, “Call us.”

As Natasha pulled her away, they walked to the door, and waved goodbye.

The whole bar had watched that exchange. He made haste. Finished his drink and played one more round against a different patron. Then he closed his tab and headed out. He called her once he was home.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Trust us, we know it’s not easy,” said Sharon.

And from that night, they were friends. 

He wondered what she was to say if she were here. He rarely dated. His friends had met all the serious contenders, but none lasted more than a year. They said to give it time. He’d find the one, that special person, they teased.

Steve always wanted to be with that special person. He knew there was someone out there for him, they just hadn’t met.

He knew he was staring but couldn’t help it. Steve found himself incapable of speech, let alone, movement. The man walked closer and closer. Steve grew warmer and warmer. 

He was gorgeous. Tall, and dark haired, with piercing blue eyes. He was wearing a tank top that had once been white, long before it had been stained with grease. Washing it proved to be an exercise in futility. Silently, Steve gave thanks, for it left little to the imagination.

He was lean, but muscular, with strong arms and strong legs. His golden-brown skin – presumably, from the hours he spent under the sun – looked warm. Steve wished he could touch him and run his fingers through those soft black curls. Maybe he’d moan.

The tank bunched around his midsection, exposing the taut skin there, when he ran a hand through his hair.

It was then he remembered he had been staring. If the man had an issue, he didn’t voice it. His eyes bore into him, searching for something Steve couldn’t name.

He was too focused on his movements. His jeans were much too tight for the man to be comfortable in the heat. Or so, Steve thought.

They did wonders for his figure, though. They were covered in the same grease that had stained the tank top, but they hugged his thighs and hips, rounding out his ass.

Steve had to consciously stop himself from licking his lips.

“Want me to look at her?” He pointed to the car in the driveway.

Steve nodded, not trusting his voice.

The man bypassed him and walked towards Steve’s car. It gave Steve an excuse to look at his ass, as he followed close behind. The man turned and smiled at him again. He must know Steve had been staring.

“Like what you see?”

Steve knew he should reply but couldn’t bring himself to say anything. What could he say?

The man closed the space between them. “Suddenly, you’re shy?”

He touched Steve’s cheek and Steve closed his eyes.

“I saw you looking and trust me when I say I don’t mind. I haven’t had a pretty boy like you look at me like that in quite some time. I was starting to think I’d lost my charm.”

He carded his hand through the hairs at the base of Steve’s neck, and brought him in for a kiss. It was soft and more exploratory than anything.

Steve wrapped his arms around his waist and deepened the kiss, pulling at his lips, and caressing his back.

“I really want someone like you,” he said pulling away.

Steve opened his eyes searching his for meaning. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on [Tumblr](https://viudanegraaa.tumblr.com).


End file.
